The Misadventures of the Two Who Traveled Through Tales: Les Miserable
by Ras1832
Summary: When two girls discover a device that takes them into books, their lives, and the lives of the characters change forever. This is the story of their misadventures A recount of when they visited Les Miserables. How will they and the book's inhabitants react to what their trip brought. Will they be able to save the lives of their beloved characters? Or will they die At the barricade?
1. 1Awkward first meetings

**A/N:**

**Casey:there are two authors to this so if we don't update in a while it probably means we can't decide on something or we both have writers' block**

**Marga:yeah but since there are two of us, we doubt thats likely**

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**Disclaimer: we don't own Les Mis. Do either of us look like Victor Hugo to you?**

**If our story resembles any that you've read thats purely a coincidence**

Chapter 1: Awkward First Meetings

Despite the fact that he was giving one of his famous rousing speeches and was belting it out with an unchecked passion, Enjolras could not ignore the two shadowy figures which crept in during the middle of it. It was unusual, to say the least, to have visitors in these meetings, with the exemption of Marius's shadow Eponine and Gavroche, the little gamine. The small crowd normally only consisted of the Les Amis and the two outsiders, though they were there so often that they were already practically considered part of The Friends. Not that he minded new supporters, but they were so rare and far in between that it still surprised him when they appeared. The meetings were so secret, even his fellow University students weren't aware of it. What surprised him even more was the fact that they did not leave when he finished his rousing speech. Rather, they sat down on one of the tables near the corner. It puzzled him, but of course being the rebels' composed and charismatic leader, he let none show on his face. He merely sat down at his usual table in the opposite corner of the room and attempted to continue planning out his next speech.

Key word: attempted

No matter how focused he was, he could not help stealing glances at the two mysterious figures, who were now conversing quietly. There was something off about the two, and it was not only their clothing. Enjolras could not help but notice their attire, which consisted of a pair of bluish trousers, caps that covered their faces in shadows, and, the oddest, coats. Considering the fact that it was the peak of summer and incredibly hot, they could only possibly be wearing it to hide something, not to mention the odd wrapped bundles they were carrying on their backs. He also noticed that the two carried themselves with an aura of gentle confidence and innate intelligence as well as a grace one would not expect from a regular gamine. Eponine and her brother possessed it, but they were a special case. As much as he wanted to walk over and question them, oddly, he could not. It did not feel right. After a few minutes of quiet observation, he noticed with relief he was not the only one to notice the two strangers. From among the rowdy and quite oblivious group of men, his second-in-command had caught sight of the two and was making his way over to them. Sensing his leader's gaze upon him, Combeferre looked back in question and received a nod of affirmation. Knowing he had his best friend's support, the gentle young man approached the two gamines, who had stopped their conversation to watch him move towards them.

Combeferre noted with interest that the two's eyes had a curious twinkle of intelligence and young wisdom. He also saw that in comparison to the other two gamines who frequented the Café, these two were considerably cleaner. He narrowed his eyes upon making these observations, but recalling his original intention, he bowed to them politely before looking them in the eye and greeting them with cheerful smile.

"Hello and welcome to the Café Musain," he said. The one nearest him stood up, and returning his bow, replied, saying in an oddly tainted French accent.

"Monsieur Combeferre, it is a pleasure to meet you." the gamine held out a hand to shake his, but he made no motion to take it. He was stunned by the fact that this stranger had known his name without previous introduction. Philosophical he may had been, but even he could not find an answer to his strange predicament.

Appearing to sense the young man's discomfort, the other gamine stood, and placing a hand on his or her companion, said in a voice to soft to discern any gender from.

"I beg pardon Monsieur, my companion can be quite excitable." The gamine then whispered into his or her companion's ear. Th other nodded in understanding.

"Oh," was Combeferre's detached reply, his mind still slightly overwhelmed.

Enjolras could not help but take note of their short exchange as he quietly approached them. He noticed that the two could speak much more eloquently than if they had been on the streets.

Finally noticing the change of pace and slight commotion, the rest of the Les Amis gathered around the small table, curious to see what had made their serious young leader and gentle second-in-command look up for even a second from their abundance of work. More than one exclamation of surprise was expressed when they saw the newcomers. Even Eponine came from her shadowy perch to see what all the fuss was about.

Courfeyac, the closest of the Amis to Gavroche their resident gamine, spoke up, thinking that the two were friends of the kid he had come to love like a brother.

"Hello, are you two acquaintances of Gavroche?" he asked, gripping said boy by the shoulders.

"I ain't never seen these folks in my life," the street urchin said in his thick street accent, looking up at the young man.

"I 'have' never seen these 'people' 'before' in my life, Gavroche," Eponine corrected, slipping around the students to stand beside her brother and get a clearer view of the proceedings.

She received a snort in return and playfully clapped the boy on the head, eliciting a mumbled "Ow" from him. Her little brother tried to pout but couldn't, grinning instead.

Thinking the sibling love had postponed the questions and answers long enough, Enjolras spoke, slightly impatient and annoyed, though he enjoyed seeing Gavroche motherhenned by his older sister.

"Then we must inquire why you two are currently here. Gavroche's friends are the only young boys who have ever come to this place and these meetings. You must pardon my rudeness and intrusion into your personal reasons for being here, but with the police and gendarmes roaming the streets, we must be cautious of whom we allow to enter and join," he said, adopting the eloquent speech that had recently become the norm for him.

"Monsieur, you see-," the second, smaller gamine started, but was cut off by her bulkier friend.

"Wait, Monsieur, did you just call us 'young boys',"he asked as if in confirmation. Enjolras nodded his head, confused.

The second gamine's face lit up in understanding and the first one turned to his companion, a mock hurt look on his face.

"'Little boys' he says. Ouch, my ego," he said. They stared at each other before bursting out laughing. The Les Amis looked in confusion as the two reached up and gripped their caps. Only Eponine and Gavroche had any inkling as to what was going on and the two sibling merely watched in understanding. After all, disguise was an art of the streets.

They were the only ones who did not seem surprised when the two strangers whipped off their caps. The Amis's eyes widened when they saw what was hidden under them. The two's medium-length jet black hair tumbled onto their shoulders, one's falling straight and smooth, the other's in graceful waves.

"Ah!" the one with wavy hair exclaimed. She, as it was obvious that the two were girls, also happened to be the smaller, slimmer one. "Finally, I could get that insipid cap off my head." She quickly tied her hair into a messy bun using an elastic she had produced from one of her pockets.

"You were the one who insisted on wearing it, and I seem to recall you mentioning that you actually liked wearing hats." Her companion said, smirking.

"It was an essential part of the disguise, and I do like wearing hats, just not with my hair stuffed into one," she argued, but added to after thinking a bit.

Enjolras, being the gentleman he was, cleared his throat to get the two's attention and apologized for their mistake. "We beg your pardon, Mademoiselles," he said to them.

Hearing his apology, the smaller girl smiled at him slightly and replied.

"No pardon needed Monsieur. My companion was merely jesting when she had said that. We fully intended to mislead others with our disguises." she said nodding her head in respect to him.

"I told you the disguises were too elaborate for our own good," her bulkier companion muttered, earning a playful whack from her companion to the upside of her head. She pouted, but soon grinned, much like how Gavroche did earlier.

"We really needed to look like boys. Plus, the streets are not safe for two girls to roam about alone at night." She hissed into her companions ear. The bigger girl threw up her arms in surrender. She noticed the Amis still gaping and her grin grew wider. She curtseyed as well as she could in trousers and spoke.

"I must be forgetting my manners, we have not yet been formally introduced. I'm Casey," she said, pointing to herself. "And that is Marga," she finished, pointing to her friend. The slightly more serious girl dropped a low curtesy, somehow managing to use the ends of her coat as a skirt. Being gentlemen, the Les Amis bowed in return.

Courfeyac, being the most amiable of the Les Mis and the best around women, stepped forward, leaving Gavroche in Eponine's care, and spoke.

"Now that you have introduced yourselves, it is time for us to reveal who we are," he exclaimed grandly. "I," he said, pointing exuberantly at himself, "am Courfeyac. The smartest, wittiest, most attractive, charming-," his self-praising was interrupted by a slight chuckle from Casey. The girl smirked at him before saying.

"Slow down lover boy, give the others a chance will you. We all know how you want to seem more important than you actually are."

The Amis roared in laughter at the comment. Even Enjolras cracked a small smile. After blushing profusely, eventually, even Courfeyac joined in on the fun.

"Great to meet you. I'm Bahorel and I like your guts kid." A large man with a broad face and a crooked nose that spoke of the multitude of fights he had gotten into said, striding forward to clasp Casey's forearm in greeting. He looked slightly surprised to find her gripping his forearm with a strength to match his. He seemed even more startled when her scrawnier companion did much the same. He looked at them with more respect in his eyes.

"And I am Jehan," a smaller young man said in a soft, gentle voice. His face was serene and his brown hair long, if messy. His eyes spoke of a mind constantly in the clouds. He had in his hand a small journal and a pen.

"I, Mademoiselles, am Lesgle, more commonly known as Bousset," proclaimed a tall, balding man. He smiled at them and bowed before being stepped on by an excitable Joly. He yelped in pain slightly and Joly, being a medical student, fussed over him, despite his protests that it was only a bruise, and apologized several times over.

"Well, as Bousset's bad luck has stalled any further introductions on his part, I must introduce myself as Feuilly," a rather tall man with messy, brown hair said. He held out his hands for them to shake. The two couldn't help but notice the callouses on them. They were the hands of an honest worker and they shook them happily.

Of course, Marga chose that time to let out a loud sneeze. The Les Amis stiffened and turned to Joly, who had been tending to Bousset's foot. The hypochondriac had paled slightly and rushed forward to inspect Marga for disease. The girl resisted and managed to pry herself out of Joly's grasp. She laughed slightly and reassured the young medical student.

"Don't worry Monsieur. It's just my dust allergies coming into play," she told the worried young man.

"It is rather dusty in here though, isn't it?" Casey commented.

Joly relaxed visibly at this and putting on a wide smile, bowed to them.

"Great to meet you. I'm Joly." he said.

"Our resident hypochondriac," Courfeyac added, eliciting a laugh from everyone. Or at least, everyone besides Enjolras, who merely frowned slightly at this quip to Joly's nature.

"Then Marga is the bane of his existence," Casey joked, clapping a hand onto her smaller friend's shoulder. "Her various medical conditions would give him a heart attack."

This jibe earned another laugh from the ranks of young men. Marga though pouted and tried to defend herself.

"I do not have various medical conditions, they're... hereditary," Marga retorted. Her friend smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, so you admit you have health issues," Casey exclaimed and added in mock surprise. "My, you finally admit that something is say is right. I can't believe it!"

"They're not health issues!" Marga whined, obviously annoyed.

"Oh really? Then what do you call your allergies, lactose intolerance, rhinitis and asthma?" she asked. Marga scowled and glared at her before sneezing again. Casey put up her hands as if to say "See", earning another glare from Marga, who was pushing Joly gently away.

"Monsieur, don't worry, I sneeze everyday and this is hardly a rare occurrence, especially considering I just recovered from a mild cold last week," she said, trying to calm the young man down. Unfortunately, upon hearing that she had just recovered from illness, no matter how slight, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her away, insisting that he give her a full checkup. Marga turned to her doubled over friend with a silent plea for help. Casey merely took one look at her face and collapsed laughing on the floor. The Les Amis watched in amusement as Joly sat Marga down some distance away from them and started inspecting the inside of her mouth.

"Ah, my friend will be the death of him," Casey said from the floor, obviously referring to Joly. She got up and dusted off her coat and pants.

"Various medical conditions?" Bousset asked, clearly amused. "You really know what to say to make that man frantic, don't you." he said.

"Hey, it's true," she said, putting up her arms in mock surrender, a smile playing on her lips. It grew into a full on grin when Marga sauntered back, very disheveled and extremely disgruntled.

"Speak nothing of this to anyone," she snarled, fixing her bun.

"Anyway, not everyone has been introduced yet," slurred a curly-haired young man gripping a bottle of brandy. He stumbled over to the two and executed a clumsy bow before continuing from his previous statement.

"I am the handsome skeptic, Grantaire," he proclaimed.

"You forgot to add drunkard, Grantaire," Enjolras said, speaking for the first time since his apology and rolling his eyes at his friend.

"That too," Grantaire amended, pointing his bottle at the angel-faced leader.

"Well, you seem to have already met Combeferre, the voice of reason in our group and besides me there's just one more..." Enjolras said, trailing off as he checked the students surrounding him. He slapped his forehead in frustration, seeing as one of their number was absent.

"Where is Pontmercy," he growled. "He's late."

"Again," Courfeyac added.

"Perhaps he was walking along and found love," Jehan murmured dreamily.

"Ridiculous," Grantaire said, causing a rowdy and avid debate amongst the students on the young man's love life.

"Stop!" came Combeferre's quiet but firm command. At this everyone fell silent.

"The matter's of another's life and heart are not our concern," he said in his usual philosophical way. Enjolras nodded in agreement and looked meaningfully at the rest of them. The others muttered apologies under their breath.

"So," Combeferre said, addressing the two girls. "As you already seem to know of me and the only other member here other than Monsieur Gavroche and Mademoiselle Eponine is missing, all whom we are to introduce from among the students is our charismatic leader Enjolras," he finished, gesturing to the blond haired, blue eyed young man. He nodded in acknowledgement.

At that exact moment the door of the back room of the Café burst open, startling everyone inside, and a young man with dark, curly hair and emerald green eyes strode in.

Eponine, who had not said anything since correcting her brother brightened up considerably and practically ran towards the newcomer, with whom she chatted with amiably. The young man smiled at the girl but soon turned his gaze to the table that was the current center of attention. He saw two young ladies he had never seen before standing there staring at him. He noticed that his friends were looking at him too.

Enjolras was the first to speak up.

"You're late." He said, annoyed at the sudden interruption.

"I'm sorry," the other man said. "I got held up in class, 'tis all."

"And here we were, talking about your non-existent love," Courfeyac joked. The rest of the boys laughed loudly, including the new student.

Only Enjolras, Casey and Marga could see Eponine visibly stiffen at the words. The two friends looked at each other with knowing expressions on their faces. If she was this upset now, wait until... no, that would have to wait.

Enjolras, as nothing much passed his notice, caught sight of this exchange. He had a sneaking suspicion the two knew more than they should. He was snapped out of his contemplative silence when the young man 'Pontmercy' asked him something.

"Enjolras," he said. "Who are these two?" he gestured towards the young women.

It was Courfeyac who answered him.

"These are Mademoiselles Casey and Marga," he said, pointing to each of them in turn.

"Hello," the young man said, striding forward, he held out his hand for them to shake. "I am Marius Pontmercy."

Casey was the first to shake hands with him.

"Monsieur Marius, it is most certainly a pleasure to meet you." She said coldly, with an air that seemed to say 'it is most certainly NOT a pleasure to meet you'. Marga did much the same thing.

The Les Amis looked confusedly at the two hostile beings who were, just minutes before, laughing and joking with them like old acquaintances.

Before the awkward silence could stretch any farther, Combeferre cleared his throat and continued the introductions, pushing up his spectacles while he was at it.

"As I was saying, this is Enjolras, our charismatic and fearless leader. Other than him, the two other members are Mademoiselle Eponine, whom we call Marius's shadow, no offense," he directed this last part to Eponine with a faint smile. She grinned, taking none. "And Monsieur Gavroche," he finished, gesturing towards to young gamine.

The two lost their cold demeanor and smiled warmly, curtseying to the two. Eponine smiled and Gavroche said, in his usual energetic way, "Pleasure to meet ya, fair Mademoiselles."

"And a pleasure to meet you too, Monsieur Gavroche," Casey said teasingly, a playful smile on her face. Her more reserved companion smiled at Eponine, saying.

"And a pleasure to meet you Mademoiselle Éponine."

"Yes, it truly is a pleasure to meet you," Casey added, rigorously shaking her hand. Eponine looked both puzzled and happy at Casey's enthusiastic display of amiability to her.

Marga put a hand on her friend's arm to calm her down, saying.

"I think she's gotten the message, now stop before you shake her arm off." She looked apologetically at the gamine.

And thus, the Les Amis de l'ABC met the two young girls who had appeared out of nowhere, and would change their lives forever


	2. 2ExplanationsExasperationsExag gerations

**A/N: **

**C:hey guys! We thought we'd update again **

**M:so we got a review inquiring if we've read the book**

**C:honestly neither of us have finished it yet**

**M:alright you should probably start reading now, hope you like it!**

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Chapter 2: Explanations, Exasperations and Exaggerations

Enjolras, feeling the question had been put off for too long, stepped forward.

"Mademoiselles, pardon my bluntness, but I must ask again, why are you here?" he asked.

The two made their way back to their seats and took their chairs, dragging them closer to the rest of the room. Casey motioned for them to sit back down. The Amis obliged, turning their chairs to face the two, prepared to face a long explanation.

"First of all," Casey started. "Stop calling us Mademoiselles. We do not stand on formality and our first names will do when addressing us."

"Can do!" Grantaire drunkenly exclaimed, earning a shush from Enjolras, who was listening intently.

Nodding at Gantaire, Casey continued. "Second of all, you can be as blunt as you wish, again, no formalities." The Amis nodded and accepted their attempts at knocking down the barrier. 'We could really become good friends with these two,' they thought to themselves.

"And about what we're doing here," Marga said, cutting in. The Amis leaned forward expectantly.

"We wish to join your cause," she continued, adding to her previous statement. The Amis looked at each other in excitement. It was rare for anyone new to join their group. Enjolras had visibly perked up at this piece of news.

But she was not done yet.

"You see, what your group stands for, equality, rights, sovereignty, justice, freedom, it is not new to us. From where we come from, we have had to fight tooth and nail to acquire those for all the people and we wish to help France in the same way. Considering we come from a Republican Democratic society and we did need to fight to make it come about, the two of us could easily help you lot plan this revolution," she finished.

Enjolras interjected, saying.

"Wait, you say you come from a democratic country, which country and where is it?" he asked.

The two looked at each other. It was Casey who answered for the two.

"Well, future democratic society, we're not from this time period, you see."

The Amis looked at them in confusion. Not from this time period? What could they possibly mean.

"What do you mean not from this time period?" Combeferre asked, the most baffled from among the Amis about this. His rational and philosophical brain could not wrap itself around this statement. It was simply not possible.

"It is the year," Casey turned to her companion, hesitating. "1832, right?" The Amis nodded in affirmation.

"We come from the year 2013." Marga said somberly. The Amis' jaws dropped. Nearly 2 centuries into the future!

"How did you get here!" Joly exclaimed.

They looked at each other again and this time, it was Casey who answered.

"Modern time-traveling device," she said.

Enjolras held up a hand to stop the barrage of questions caused by this statement.

"If you are neither from this place nor time, how do you know about our organization?" he questioned skeptically.

"You made the history books," Casey said a matter-of-factly. "And we wished to meet you and lend you a hand. Your story inspired one of our heroes to fight for our freedom. It's the least we could do."

Enjolras's mouth formed a small O of surprise. The Les Amis stood speechless at the two strange girls.

"Gah, it's so hot!" Marga exclaimed, fanning herself and breaking the silence. "I'm sweltering in here!"

"What?! The great heat resisting Marga is complaining about the temperature. Miss I-have-extremely-high-heat-resistance, and I-can-wear-long-sleeves-in-the-Sahara, is actually admitting it's hot in here." Casey joked. Marga rolled her eyes in annoyance and retorted with her own jibe.

"Why don't you take your jacket off then! If I can't handle it, much less can you!" In response, Casey too rolled her eyes. The Les Amis laughed at the two's lighthearted bickering, the tension quickly dispelled. They returned to their usual rowdy selves in a split second.

"Fine, I was dying from the heat anyway," Casey muttered. She quickly shed off the coat, revealing her to be in an odd, slightly tight fitting blouse with a rather low neckline. The schoolboy's jaws dropped open in both shock and awe. Courfeyac even went so far as to whistle. Casey raised her eyebrows and grinned at them, folding up her jacket and keeping it in a knapsack they hadn't noticed before. Casey couldn't help but notice with amusement the faint blush on the faces of the boys. Even Enjolras was blushing slightly. If they had doubted they were girls before, well, all those doubts were gone now. They noticed unconsciously that her outfit showed off her rather good figure.

"Finished staring?" she asked slyly. All of them looked away and muttered apologies under their breaths. Marga glared at her friend. Casey looked down, and seeing her face the grin turned into a smirk. She stretched and exclaimed in a decidedly blissful tone.

"Ah, it's so much cooler without that restricting jacket. It's not nearly as stuffy in here as before."

Marga answered this jibe with one of her signature death glares. Casey, of course, wasn't affected, but Joly, as he was sitting behind the girl, received a powerful, if slightly sedated, version of it. He cowered slightly at its force despite it being Casey and not him on the receiving end. Feuilly was also affected slightly as he was sitting right behind poor Joly. Both were incredibly relieved when her gaze softened and turned away. Who knew someone so small could be so frightening.

"Don't rub it in," she muttered, just loud enough for her companion to hear. Casey grinned at her success at urging a response from her slightly tight-lipped friend.

She tried to dig in deeper, but her slight comments were only met with stony silence. It would be good to note that the Les Amis were back to doing what they normally did. Enjolras working on speeches and plans for the revolution. Combeferre helping him. Joly fussing over his health. Bousset feeling and being unlucky. Grantaire drinking. Éponine fussing over Marius. Marius patiently indulging her tendencies to chatter. Feuilly looking over new designs for fans and Courfeyac, Bahorel and Gavroche doing... whatever it was they were doing.

After a few minutes of pokes and jabs to get Marga to remove her heavy coat, Casey suddenly yelled in exasperation, startling everyone, even her friend.

"Oh for the love of Patria, take off your coat will you! You'll get heat stroke if you keep this up!

Enjolras started at the mention of his love and Joly jumped up at the mention of heat stroke. He tried to make his way to Marga, but was stopped by Casey who assured him she was exaggerating.

Marga, though incredibly stubborn, finally relented, feeling too hot and uncomfortable to protest.

"Fine," she snapped. She shed her coat, which revealed her to be in an outfit that could not be anymore different than her friend's. She was wearing a loose, long-sleeved blouse that was buttoned up to her neck and a baggy pair of pants. But despite her efforts, it could be observed that she was slimmer and slightly taller than her rather bulky friend. She glared at the staring young men and most of them cowered before her. She crouched to keep her coat and get something from her bag. While her friend was down, Casey observed that almost all the Les Amis were staring at them. All except Enjolras that is. She had seen the stoic leader glance at them when she burst and when Marga had removed her coat, but quickly looked away. She saw with amusement that the young leader was avoiding their gaze and was blushing furiously with a curious Gavroche poking at his cheeks. The poor boy had probably never seen a woman in trousers, much less something so revealing, especially on her part, she thought. He is known for being incredibly celibate after all, she silently mused.

Despite feeling slight pity for his complete inability with the other gender, Casey would not pass out on a prime chance to tease the young man. After all, how many times do you get a chance to make fun of a marble Apollo?

"My, is that a blush I see Monsieur Enjolras," Casey said, loud enough to be heard across the room. Of course her comment did not go unnoticed by the rest of the Amis and they all turned to see a beet red Enjolras batting Gavroche's hand away while trying to cover his face. The normally controlled and confident young man refused to make eye contact with the rest of them. They had found him in a moment of weakness. The confusion that followed the two's explanation and the shock of seeing the two young women in such odd attire let his slight vulnerability show. He buried his face in his book and tried to ignore his friends.

"So he is!" Bahorel boomed in his loud voice and started to chuckle.

"You've gotten him to blush! We've been trying to do that for years and got so little reaction that we finally gave up a week ago," Grantaire yelled in exultation, oddly sober.

"If this was what would have happened afterwards, we should have given up years ago," Courfeyac said laughing. The Café erupted into cheers and laughter.

"We even used Èponine once!" Feuilly exclaimed.

"Which I will never forgive you for! Though it did give me a new friend," Éponine retorted before recalling the very long and heated debate she had with Enjolras about the poor that eventually blossomed into a close and beautiful friendship. The Amis just continued cheering and laughing.

Their celebration was interrupted by a loud "Finally!"

They looked around to see who had said it. Their gaze landed on Marga, who was gripping a large book in her hand with a triumphant look on her face. She looked around, confused.

"What did I miss," she asked Casey.

"Oh nothing really, they were just celebrating the fact that Enjolras blushed after they had given up getting him to," Casey explained reassuringly.

Marga flushed in embarrassment, realizing she had interrupted something important and looked so meek and apologetical, the Amis just forgave her and continued celebrating.

"Next thing you know, he'll be having a proper conversation with another woman besides Éponine," Marius said.

"He blushed! Finally, he might fall in love," Jehan screeched, uncharacteristically loud due to his romantic side taking over.

Only Casey noticed Marga as she slipped through the crowd like a shadow. Those lessons from Halt really payed off, she thought.

Enjolras was trying in vain to shut off the voices of his obnoxious friends. The only respite he ever got was burying himself in his work, but even that was failing to distract him. His previous embarrassment did not help at all with his difficulty to concentrate, so it was no wonder he did not notice Marga until she was standing right across him. When he finally noticed her staring at him, he put on his usual cold demeanor and narrowed his eyes at her, frowning. Though they seemed different and, though slightly unbelievable, their story rang slightly of truth, they were still ladies, and besides Éponine, all the ladies he had met either flirted with him, or... flirted with him. Besides, it was her and her friend's fault he got into this situation in the first place.

He fully expected the girl to bat her eyelashes at him and tease him with an annoying whine to her voice, but, once again, he was proven wrong. Instead, she surprised him by plopping down on the seat across from him and slamming the massive book she was holding on to the table he was sitting at. He stared at the title. He took note of the words 'Constitution' and 'Republic' before she opened the book and pointed out a paragraph for him to read. Puzzled, he obliged, each word causing his eyes to widen a bit more. When he finished, he stared at the serious young girl across him with wide eyes. They grew even wider when Marga initiated a conversation about his revolution. Usually he had to rant for hours before getting a reaction, and it was usually a cheer. The only other person that had the nerve to argue with him was Éponine, and that was because of his friends made her do it. It was a pleasant and very good discussion, but he was disheartened by the fact his friends had to bribe her. It started a mutually close friendship, but it hurt him that it was only caused his friend's attempt at getting him to relax. Never was it started willingly but with Combeferre, and by a girl, or lady, nonetheless. Pushing these thoughts from his mind though, he threw himself into the conversation that would easily take hours to finish.

"The poor deserve better in life. Why are the bourgeoisie treated better if only for the status they were born into..." Enjolras passionately said as Marga asked him the reasons for his rebellion. His flame flared even brighter when he saw her nod along.

Seeing as her friend was otherwise engaged with a raging Enjolras, Casey decided to have some fun, joining the others in their celebration at their marble leader's show of emotion.

She laughed with them, listening to their jokes and making her own, making them laugh even harder. Of course she denied the alcohol and kept her guard up, but otherwise, she was having a very good time. The Amis were good company and they enjoyed her wit and snappy comebacks, even if they occasionally didn't understand her strange slang. In that short time, the amiable young lady made several friends from among the group. She would listen to Jehan's poems, play with Gavroche, yell at Grantaire to 'put the bottle down', helped Bousset when he tripped or when his bad luck caught up to him, indulge Joly's hypochondriac tendencies, give her opinion on Feuilly's fan art, discuss books with Combeferre and she would bluntly turn down Courfeyac's advances, not that that stopped him. She soon showed there was more to her than a pretty face. She had an intelligent mind that showed whenever she spoke.

"Did you see him, he was as red as a tomato!" Courfeyac shrieked joyfully, staggering a bit as he was balanced on a chair and had slightly more than his fair share of wine.

"Yeah! He turned as red as my iPad case. Redder perhaps!" Casey yelled, guffawing a the memory.

"IPad? I don't believe I've heard the term," Combeferre mused out loud, one of the few who hadn't drunk much yet. He was in the corner reading a book, but he was still very much included in the conversation.

"Speaking of which, you've used many unfamiliar terms for the past half-hour or so," Gantaire slurred, still relatively sober, even after two bottles of brandy. "Like computer, iPod, TV, the like, to name but a few," he said, taking another swig from his bottle.

"Oh right, your not from my time, are you? You wouldn't be aware of the advances of technology. This," she said as she pulled an odd, flat object encased in a red cover from the inside of her bag. She showed it to them and they crowded around it to look. Even Éponine and Marius approached. It had a black, blank, shiny, reflective front with a circular indent in the bottom middle. It didn't appear to be special, but neither did the two when they arrived. Looks could be deceiving. "Is an iPad," she finished. She pressed the little indent lightly and all of them backed away as a picture suddenly flashed on what they would soon learn was the screen. Their reactions ranged from fascinated to hostile. Combeferre seemed genuinely interested while Bahorel went so far as to hiss.

"What sorcery have you brought upon us," Bahorel growled as Jehan whimpered from where he was hiding behind the huge man.

Casey laughed and fiddled with the strange device, somehow operating it with merely her fingertips. "It's not sorcery, nor any kind of magic whatsoever," she told them, beckoning for them to move closer. Hesitantly, they approached, albeit carefully.

She quickly explained, showing them the different parts and controls of the object that had caused so many reactions to take place. Soon, she left them to fiddle with it. She had given it to Combeferre with specific instructions as to not get it destroyed. She had even convinced Grantaire to leave his bottle on a table, which she quickly disposed of, despite knowing he would produce another from somewhere or another.

Casey watched in amusement as they gingerly handled it, each wanting to touch it at least once. Éponine even went as far as to grip Gavroche to prevent him from playing with it, afraid he would damage it. Casey made a mental note to ask Marga to borrow her iPad so that they wouldn't crowd around her's, but seeing as her friend was arguing loudly with Enjolras, she decided to wait.

What with their insatiable curiosity over it, it was not long before someone pressed the photos app, despite not knowing what photos were. Casey had mentioned them, but she hadn't yet elaborated on what they were. They looked in puzzlement as they came across a bunch of what appeared to be, portraits of people and places. But, save for a few, they were unlike any they had ever seen. For one thing, they were clearer. And it didn't seem like it was created using paint. Though they were all curious, it was Jehan who inquired from Casey after scrolling down and seeing a picture of very beautiful flowers.

"Mademoiselle Casey, what are 'photos'?" he asked.

"First of all, what did I say about that 'Mademoiselle'," she asked him. He mumbled an apology and turned his head as if in shame. Casey shook her head. 'Old habits die hard,' she thought, but she explained the concept of photos to them.

"You see, they're like your paintings, only easier to make and store," she finished after taking a quickly giving them a sufficient description of photos. "If you want to learn its history or how they're taken, ask Marga. She read about it once, but that's pretty much all."

They nodded their heads in understanding and turned back to the pictures before them. As they got lower into the list, they frowned. There were an awful lot of pictures of a blond, curly-haired man who looked uncannily like Enjolras and a few of a woman who looked very similar to Éponine. There were quite a few of the two together. Scattered around were many of one who looked like Marius, but no others they could sufficiently recognize.

"Why do you have so many photos of a person who looks like Enjolras?" Feuilly asked, puzzled. Didn't the girl say photos were only invented during the 20th century? Then why did she have these pictures?

"W...well...um...y...you see," Casey stuttered, trying to find a sufficient explanation, blushing a brilliant shade of red.

"It's because she fancies him!" came a familiar sounding female voice from behind them. They turned around to see Marga sitting at a table across from Enjolras, who looked very annoyed at being interrupted by the very girl he was answering the questions of because of so trivial a matter. He hadn't even heard the question.

"What was that?" Courfeyac asked, remembering Casey's more serious friend. She had completely slipped his mind, despite being just as attractive as her very pretty friend. He assumed she just vanished into thin air, apparently not. She was still very much present, and judging by her askew bun and glistening black eyes, she was having a very heated debate with Enjolras, who looked just as disheveled.

"I said she fancies him," Marga repeated before gesturing for a very aggravated Enjolras to continue.

"Were you even listening to me?" he asked huffily.

"Yes," she said. "I've just developed the skill of hearing other people while focusing on one speaker. It helps if you need to acquire intelligence about the enemy."

"Oh really? Then what did I just say?" he tested her.

When she quoted him word for word, he returned rather reluctantly to his argument.

Casey, on the other hand, was stunned by what her friend had said.  
It was only when the other Amis stared at her that she protested in a rather high-pitched voice.

"I do not!" she shrieked.

"At the very least you like Aaron Tveit," Marga yelled, still in the middle of explaining Check and Balance to Enjolras, who seemed very annoyed by the second interruption to their perfectly good discussion.

"For the last time! I don't fancy Enjolras, nor do I fancy Aaron! Perhaps Fra Fee, but not Aaron! It's just that I support Enjonine!" she retorted angrily. She smirked as Marga froze on the spot, about to say something, and looked in her direction, horrified.

"What's Enjonine?" Courfeyac asked, curious as to what would cause such a frightening lady like Marga to pause in horror.

"It's a pairing," Casey explained smugly.

Marga groaned and banged her head against the wall with Enjolras looking worriedly at her. She said, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

"Could this wait until they know us better?"

Sensing the logic of her statement, Casey rolled her eyes.

"Ok," she amended, relenting to her friends wishes.

Marga nodded and visibly slumped in relief. Unfortunately, fate seemed to wish her on edge.

"Enjonine," Marius mused. He muttered, just barely louder than a whisper. "That sounds awfully like Enjolras... and Éponine." Marga's face turned practically ashen.

"What!?" Grantaire yelped out as he spit the mouthful of alcohol he had just downed onto a very startled Joly. The young man paled and ran out of the room yelling something about bad breath and mouth germs.

"Wait. Enjonine. Enjolras... and Éponine. A pairing, she said." Jehan murmured, trying to make a connection. His face brightened as he realized what Casey had meant, but he could tell the others were still confused. "That's it!" he yelled.

The other Amis looked at him expectantly, willing him to elaborate, which he did willingly.

"A relationship! A couple! That's what Casey meant when she said it was a pairing! If you combine the names Enjolras and Éponine, you get..." he trailed off, hoping the others would catch on. To his surprise, it was Marga who answered.

"Enjonine," she moaned, looking very willing and eager to give herself a concussion using one of Enjolras's heavy law books. She stared at one, contemplating knocking herself out, but decided against it. Who knew what Casey would tell them if she were out cold?

"Yep," came Casey's joyful affirmation amidst whoops of joy from the Amis and angry comments from a livid Enjolras and a furious Éponine.

"What ridiculous malarchy are you spewing out of that gutter hole you call a mouth!" Enjolras bellowed, positively incensed.

"A street rat and a marble rebel!? Are you out of your damned mind!?" Éponine spat, venom dripping from every word.

"Do tell us more!" Courfeyac said gleefully, looking very much like an eager little girl.

"Yes! Pray do tell!" Grantaire exclaimed, looking as sober as he'll ever be.

"Sorry, but I was sworn into secrecy by my dear friend Marga until further notice," came the sly response. Casey smirked at their pleading expressions.

'She's enjoying this way to much,' Marga thought to herself, seeing the slightly evil look on her friend's face.

"Come now!" Jehan whined, pouting slightly. Not many could stand looking at him when he was like that and not give in. Even Enjolras would cave in after seeing it. Unfortunately for him, Casey seemed impervious to his charms and merely smirked down at him.

"This is ludicrous!" Enjolras yelled. He turned to the one person in the room whom he knew he could trust. "Surely you back me with my stand on this, do you not Combeferre?"

To his dismay, his second-in-command's answer was less than desirable.

"I must say, I too am curious as to what her explaination will be. It is not the most likely pairing, but a plausible one. It will be fascinating to hear her reasoning and thoughts on this topic," his best friend told him. At this, Enjolras bristled with a barely concealed rage.

Éponine, on the other hand, was trying to assure Marius that there was nothing going on between her and the marble leader.

"Monsieur Marius! There is nothing! Nothing between us! Please believe me!" she said to her friend desperately.

Due to Casey's reluctance to talk, the Amis split into individual groups to discuss it. Their arguments escalated to such a point where Bahorel and Grantaire nearly started a fistfight. With the shouting and loud protests, it was complete chaos.

"Stop!" came a voice with an unmistakable tone of command. "Stop!" Marga repeated, softer. She strode forward and broke Bahorel and Grantaire apart. "This is hardly something to fight about," she said to all of them. "I know you," she pointed to Enjolras. "Are angry. And you," she said, pointing to Éponine. "Are upset, but could we save this discussion for later in the week? It is at the same time too early and to late to tell all of you about it, so please," she begged them, pouting much like Jehan did. With such big eyes and such an adorable pout, they grudgingly complied. The girl brightened, but with a face as stormy as a tornado, she turned to her companion, who was watching the proceedings with curiosity.

"And you!" Marga spat out. "I'll talk to you in private," she said, dragging the poor girl outside. The Amis could hear loud shouts and muffled curses, as well as murmured apologies and soft admonishments.

When the two returned to the room, the Amis were doing much the same as they were before the Enjolras's love life was brought up. Casey walked forward and joined Courfeyac, Grantaire, Feuilly, Bahorel, and Jehan at their table. They drew up a chair and cheerfully let her join in on the conversation. Not willing to look Enjolras in the eye after that embarrassing episode, Marga walked forward to join them. They looked at her and gave her a seat rather hesitantly, but she quickly won them over. Her seriousness was of no consequence when you took in her wit and spitfire attitude. She reminded them greatly of Éponine, and they accepted her nearly as quickly as they accepted her friend, who had appealed to them because of her natural amiability, charm and snappy responses to almost anything thrown at her. By the end of the night, both girls were chatting and laughing with them like they were there the whole time.

'It won't be long until they'll be considered official Les Amis,' they thought to themselves. 'All they have to do is convince Enjolras to let them, and they seem well on the way to doing that,' they turned to see Enjolras intent at reading the book Marga slammed onto his table top.

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**A/N:**

**C: ok so thats chapter two! Hope you guys liked it**

**M: we might update again soon, depending on how many reviews/follows/favorites there are**


	3. 3 Where do we stay?

**A/N:**

**M: did you even consider where we're supposed to stay?**

**C: good point there... **

**M: eh let's just see how things work out**

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**Disclaimer: we only own the plot...**

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Chapter 3: Where do we stay?

The night was aging fast and it was quickly approaching midnight. The Amis were preparing to go home to rest and Marius, along with Eponine had already left, quickly followed by Gavroche.

The two new girls were in the corner table talking softly with each other.

"Where are we to stay? We can't sleep on the streets for an entire month." Marga mused aloud. Casey looked at her with an expression that clearly said 'seriously?'.

"I'm sure one of the boys will let us lodge with them," she said, and before Marga could stop her, or even protest, she yelled to the rest of the room.

"Any one of you sorry lot have an extra room or bed we could use!"

Courfeyac hurriedly raised his hand, looking much like an eager schoolboy, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not with you," Marga snapped, still completely averse to the thought of imposing upon them, and even more averse to staying with the renowned playboy.

"Way to eager, we can see right through your charms," Casey said, amused. Courfeyac looked down, disappointed.

"I'd have you stay with me, but Musichetta would probably mind," Joly said ruefully.

"You could stay with me," Bousset said from across Joly, but Casey was already shaking her head.

"Sorry, but we want to get back home in one piece," she said, giving him an apologetic smile. He shrugged and returned it. He was well aware of his notorious bad luck.

"I don't have any extra rooms, I'm sorry," Jehan said, nibbling on the end of his quill, Feuilly looking over his shoulder to read the poem he was writing.

"I'm the same, sorry," the fan maker said sadly.

"I don't have any permanent lodging to speak of, so staying with me is out of the question," Bahorel told them.

Grantaire snored from where he was passed out on the floor next to the bar.

"Well, we're not getting an offer from him anytime soon," Casey whispered in Marga's ear. She nodded grimly, still very much annoyed.

"We have an extra room and a couch," Combeferre said, looking up briefly from his book before returning to it. "You just need to clear it with my roommate," he finished.

"Who's your roommate then?" Marga asked, knowing there was a catch to almost every good thing that happened to them. She was proven correct when the bookworm pointed to Enjolras who was still puzzling over the Constitution law book she had briefly lent him upon the condition of returning it before they leave.

"Looks like we're sleeping on the streets," she said with finality. "I'll go look for Gavroche," she muttered, starting towards the door.

"Oh come now, you never know before you try," Casey whined slightly, grabbing her arm to stop her motion. Instead, she pushed her towards the young rebel leader with the words.

"Go talk to him, you were the one who spent an hour talking politics with him," she said.

Muttering foul words under her breath, Marga walked towards Enjolras, her arms crossed.

Engrossed as he was in the book, Enjolras did not notice the approaching young girl. It certainly didn't help that her footsteps were barely perceptible. He only looked up when she said 'Monsieur?'

"Yes?" he said, slightly annoyed at her interrupting his reading.

"Though I loathe myself for asking such, Monsieur Enjolras, would you mind letting us live in your flat for the duration of our stay here?" she asked him.

"Why ever would you loathe yourself over such a trivial thing? And no, you may not. Gentleman I may be, but I barely know you two and people would get the wrong idea if I allow you to live with me. It's not only my reputation at stake, but yours as well. Neighbors don't take well to unwed couples living together and they are more than willing to think badly of your virtue, so, once again, for your sake, no," he said sternly, turning back to the book. Marga nodded her head in understanding of his concerns. It had crossed her mind previously and it was one of the reasons she was hesitant to ask the others to take them in. Before she moved away though, he stopped her, saying.

"And don't call me Monsieur, we are all equals here. Call me Enjolras." Marga nodded and smiled slightly at him before turning away.

"Ready yourself, we're off to see Gavroche and ask to stay with him in The Elephant," she said, approaching Casey. "Oh, and call Monsieur Enjolras just plain Enjolras from now on. He doesn't seem to like titles for casual address," she added.

Looking fairly surprised at Marga, Casey asked.

"He said no?" Marga nodded, fixing her bag and taking out her trench coat. "What kind of gentleman is he?!" Casey exclaimed.

Marga sighed before turning to her insulted companion. "That is precisely why he refused. If we are to get anywhere in this century, we must retain our respectability in the eyes of the people. Living with those two will only hurt it. They might think we're their mistresses or something of the sort!" she explained.

"Well I don't care!" Casey said stubbornly. "I'll go talk to him myself if that's it!" she said, striding off to where Enjolras was sitting.

Sensing a presence before him, Enjolras looked up from the book, looking very, very, very aggravated at being interrupted, again.

"What!?" he snarled ill-naturedly. He was clearly in a bad mood, what with all the interruptions he had to deal with, but Casey did not let that sway her. She'd had to deal with Marga and her moods for years, a bad tempered boy was nothing in comparison.

"I would like to know 'Monsieur'," she said, putting stress on the title, hoping to annoy him. Unfortunately, she did. "Why you refused to let us stay with you. You have one perfectly good extra bedroom and couch, at least let others use it when they need to!"

"Can you not stay with the others?" he asked, regaining control over his annoyance.

Casey shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "Some of them couldn't spare a room, I actually want to get home alive, not torn apart by Bousset's bad luck, and I don't trust Courfeyac."

He sighed and waved his hand in the air aimlessly.

"Fine, you can stay, as long as you don't mind old woman gossip," he said, turning back to his book resignedly.

Casey, who had already prepared a long speech to induce him into conceding, started talking as soon as he stopped, not even pausing to process his words.

"How can you not let us stay! We told you about our mission and all that-and did you just say yes?!" she looked at him in shock. Looking up once again from his book, he stared into her eyes, making her feel very uncomfortable.

"Oui. You may, but you'll have to go with Combeferre as I still have a few things to fix here."

"Oh," was all she could say before turning back to Marga.

"So, what did he say?" her companion asked.

Still bewildered at his compliancy, Casey said softly.

"He said we could."

"I won't be needing this then," Marga said, throwing the flashlight she held back into her bag. She saw Enjolras getting up to whisper something in his flatmate's ear. Combeferre nodded and stood up, beckoning to the pair of girls. They approached him and he said.

"Well, I'm to escort you to the flat," he said turning towards the door. He motioned for them to follow him. "Come on now."

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**A/N: **

**C: so what did you guys think?**

**M: R&R!**


	4. 4Night to Day, Dawn to Dusk

**A/N:**

**C: thanks for all the reviews guys!=))**

**(re:reviews)**

**M**:** we'd like to thank JustMe for being a constant reviewer:)**

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Chapter 4: Night to Day, Dawn to Dusk

"I will take the couch and you will stay in your room." Marga said, pushing Combeferre into his chambers with him protesting avidly. "Stay," she said before putting her bag down on the newly cleared couch.

Combeferre sighed in exasperation. After several attempts at convincing Marga to take either his or Enjolras's room, he had finally given up. The headstrong young girl had made Casey take their spare room and, after clearing spare papers and books off of it, declared the couch hers, protesting all of Combeferre's offers that she would take one of the two men's rooms.

"We're the ones imposing upon you, it would not be right," was her constant argument, despite Combeferre's retorts that, after all the trouble they took to help in the revolution, it was the least they could do.

"Fine," he had said after arguing for a good twenty minutes. The girl had grinned and had happily pushed him into his room.

He sighed again and, lighting a candle, closed the door to allow the girls some privacy. He walked to his cabinet and prepared for sleep.

It was well past midnight when Enjolras arrived back at the flat, carrying a passed-out Grataire. He struggled to find the keyhole. After fumbling with his key awhile, he managed to unlock and open the door. He entered his flat, dragging Grantaire behind him. His eyes took a while too adjust, but he made his way towards the couch anyway, using his memory to guide him.

Not even bothering to clear off the various materials he knew littered the surface, he dumped Grantaire on the couch, but was startled out of his thoughts by a startled, high-pitched squeal.

Hurriedly lighting a candle, he saw a groaning Grantaire half on the floor, and half draped over a very groggy, but very shocked Marga who had happened to be fast asleep on the couch. The young girl sat up and wiped her eyes.

"I...I apologize profusely Mademoiselle Marga," he stammered, lifting Grantaire off of her, dropping him on the floor, causing him to grunt and wake.

"Wh...what happened," he slurred. He reached out for something to support himself with as he tried to stand up. Marga took his wrist and pulled him up, showing surprising strength, considering her slight figure. She supported him as he stood, still woozy from the alcohol he had consumed.

"It's fine, don't worry Monsieur Enjolras," she said, getting up and letting Grantaire lean heavily on her shoulder. Enjolras took his friend off her hands.

"Thank you, and don't call me Monsieur. We've been over this, we are all equals," came his answer.

"As long as you don't call me Mademoiselle," she said, lighting another candle.

Hearing the slight commotion outside, both Combeferre and Casey came out of their respective rooms. Combeferre looked as alert as ever, as if he had never gone to sleep. Most likely he had been reading late into the night. Casey, on the other hand, looked decidedly sluggish, though she had the presence of mind to arm herself when she walked out. She was currently handling a very large and very dangerous looking broadsword.

"Really?" Marga asked from where she was fixing a makeshift bed on the floor. She had convinced Grantaire to, reluctantly, take the couch, denying all of Enjolras's offers to sleep on his bed. She used the same argument as before when Combeferre offered much the same. Though she didn't trust the drunk much not to do something, she was sure he couldn't do anything in his inebriated state. "A broadsword?"

Casey shrugged, hefting the massive blade like it was no heavier that a pen. The three young men eyed the weapon warily. Though the two didn't seem all that threatening, at least, they didn't seem to have any ill intent towards them, it was better to be safe. Anyone who could wield such a cumbersomely large weapon could only be a seasoned warrior, even if it was a young lady using it.

"Anyway, if it was nothing of importance, we should go back to sleep," Combeferre said, pushing his glasses up his nose. All the others present, excluding Enjolras, nodded in agreement. Combeferre and Casey were the first to go back to their rooms, but Marga quickly snuggled under the covers of her makeshift floor bed.

Crouching so that he could look her in the eye, Enjolras asked the young lady.

"Are you fine sleeping next to Grantaire? Can you handle him." She answered with a nod. "Just call if you need any help." He received another nod. He quickly helped Grantaire into bed and bid them both goodnight before retiring to his chambers.

"Bon Nuit," he said. They too said goodnight.

The three students awoke the next morning to the smell of food cooking. Both Combeferre and Enjolras emerged from their rooms looking very dishiveled. Grantaire sat up, a splitting headache pounding in his head. All three of them made their way to the kitchen to be greeted by a strangely comforting sight.

"Bon Matin," Casey greeted them from where she was fixing the table. Marga said likewise, looking up from her cooking. Casey, finished setting the table, joined her friend at the stove.

The three men seated themselves and watched as Marga and Casey started serving the food.

There was a bowl of a strange, white, grainy substance. They've never seen anything like it before, and so they eyed it hesitantly. They had also fried a few eggs. The last dish looked like vegetables, but it was cooked in such an odd way, they could recognize neither the ingredients nor the smell.

The two girls quickly seated themselves across from them, giving none of the boys a chance to pull up their seat. Marga gave them all glasses of water and placed a cup of tea in front of Grantaire, which he accepted gratefully.

Before they even touched the food, all five of them said a quick prayer of thanksgiving. After, Enjolras and Marga got into an argument as to who will serve whom first.

"It is only polite that you take food first and that we serve you. Would we be gentlemen if we let you alone while stuffing our faces?" Was Enjolras's argument as he tried to portion the food and put some on Marga's plate. She refused to accept help from him, saying.

"We can serve ourselves and we won't think any less of you if you take no notice of us. Take what you want for yourself, we can handle it on our own."

When he insisted upon it, the slight bickering turned into a full-on shouting match between the two about manners and proper decorum. When five minutes passed without either side backing down, Combeferre thought it a good time to ask Casey about the food.

"Oh, that's rice," the girl said when the student pointed to the grainy substance. "Very common fare in East Asia."

"You're from Asia then?" Combeferre asked, curious. The girl nodded happily.

"Southeastern Asia," she elaborated. He nodded and inquired about the vegetables, which he soon learned was a stir-fry Chinese dish, though the girls were not originally from China.

"Can we not eat already?" Grantaire moaned, rubbing his temples. He still had a hangover and the yelling wasn't helping at all.

"We should probably start," Combeferre sighed. "Knowing Enjolras, he would never admit defeat."

"Same with Marga. She's as stubborn as a mule sometimes," came Casey's answer as she took an egg and a fair helping of rice and greens. The other two did the same.

Seeing as their friends were already eating, Enjolras and Marga took their seats, glaring at each other. They would continue their discussion later.

After breakfast, Grantaire excused himself and bid them adieu, with the promise of being at the meeting. Casey took the bathroom for herself and the the two students went into their rooms to prepare for class, leaving Marga alone in the living room to read.

Before they left though, the two young men called Marga up on a problem that they had only just realized.

"What are you going to wear?" Combeferre asked her. He gestured to the clothes she had worn the day before. "Surely you can't be thinking to saunter around Paris in...that?"

"Hmm," she pondered for a bit. "I suppose I never thought about that. Anyway, Casey said she had brought extra clothes, so I don't think it's that much an issue," she said cheerfully, skillfully avoiding their stares of disbelief.

"You came here with absolutely no thought about what you would wear?!" Combeferre asked incredulously. Marga shook her head after pausing to think.

"Casey said that she had something prepared for the trip, so I wouldn't worry all that much. Look, she's coming out, you can ask her." Marga pointed to the bathroom door, which Casey was indeed coming out of, but even she was startled by what her friend was wearing. As for the boys, well, a fly could have flown into their mouths at that moment.

She had on a beautiful, dark blue dress with a small ruff of lace along the slightly low neckline and elbow sleeves. It swept the floor and hugged her body loosely, showing a bit more of her figure than Marga would ever had gone for. Her hair, though wet, was braided and twisted into a small bun at the top of her head with small strands framing her face. She grinned at their reactions and chuckled slightly. 'Wait 'til they see what people in 2013 think is decent to wear about' she thought to herself.

"You'd better shut those mouths before somebody trips over them," she said teasingly. The two boys promptly ceased their gaping, but Combeferre did not stop staring, blushing slightly, though his companion looked pointedly away.

"So this is what you meant when you said you'd take care of our outfits," Marga murmured, as if to herself, admiring the dress.

"There's a reason my parents own a clothes shop," was her answer. "Oh, and before I forget," she scurried into her room and came out with a violet dress. "This is yours," she finished, throwing it to her. Marga caught it and held it up for a better look. The more she saw of it, the paler she got. She looked at her friend, slightly scandalized.

"I can never wear this, the cut is just," she made a wild gesture with her hands. Casey laughed at her friend's face, saying.

"It's no worse than mine! Honestly, you're worse than the Abnegation." Of course the two puzzled boys did not know what she was referring to, but Marga did, and she wasn't happy.

"Well I'm sorry for my modesty streak, but you know how I feel about such things," she said, scowling.

"Yes, but you need to loosen up, and if that means tightening a few things, then I say, go ahead!" She then ushered Marga into the bathroom. After shutting the door on her friend's protests, she turned to the two bemused boys. "Don't you have a lecture to attend?" she asked them. Blushing slightly, they excused themselves, hurrying out the door. At least, Combeferre was blushing, Enjolras was his same marble self, composed and cold.

When they got out of the flat, they couldn't help but hear a commotion inside.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking a bath!" they hear Casey say reprovingly. There was a muffled response, but they couldn't hear what Marga had said, for it was obviously her.

"Then what did you forget," Casey exclaimed.

"The rest of my clothes! And a towel! Heaven knows how you got yourself dry in there, and I am most certainly not using one of theirs!" the two students had no doubts that it was they she was referring to. "You didn't even let me grab my stuff before throwing me in there." And at that, they hurried on, very unwilling to hear the rest of the conversation.

Eventually, Marga did take a bath and made record timing. She was in and out in fifteen minutes flat, though with her hair a tangled mess and her teeth yet to be brushed. But before she could do either, she stomped out of the bathroom, practically glowering.

"I should have never let you take those measurements," she snarled, pulling at the tight waist of her dress.

"Why ever not?" Casey asked innocently. Marga's glare intensified.

"So you wouldn't make this damned dress so form-fitting," she said, obviously still scandalized, though the cut was exactly the same as Casey's, though adjusted to fit her slighter figure.

'Who, me?' Casey seemed to ask innocently with her expression.

Marga, at a loss for a snide remark, merely shot Casey another death glare before retuning to the bathroom to brush her hair and teeth.

After doing what had to be done, Marga made her way to the kitchen. Casey looked up from where she was reading fan fiction on her iPad.

"What are you doing?" Casey asked, momentarily turning her attention away from the screen. Marga rolled her eyes. Of course she would be reading fan fiction even if she were already in the book itself.

"Tidying up the house, washing the dishes. Housekeeping in general," was her reply, rolling up her sleeves so as not to ruin them. She quickly got started on the plates and utensils they had used earlier. Casey stood up and helped her.

"Where did you find Internet connection anyway?" Marga asked her friend. Casey shrugged in reply.

"We're in a book, that is currently on your desk, at a house that has its own router. What did you expect?"

Marga looked at her and muttered. "Sorry. It's just that you didn't use your iPad much in The Ranger's Apprentice."

Casey grinned.

"Oh I used it. You just didn't see me," she said, leaving Marga to puzzle over the times she did and did not see Casey at her iPad.

It was nearing dusk when the two boys returned from the University. The two girls had slipped their minds during the day, so they were slightly shocked to see Casey lounging on a chair, reading on her iPad.

"Welcome back," she said, looking them in the eye. Remembering his manners, Combeferre smiled and greeted her with a cheerful 'Bonjour.' Enjolras merely nodded at her, a completely stoic expression on his face. Casey rolled her eyes inwardly. 'Leave it to the marble statue to avoid any and all interactions with the female species,' she thought to herself.

"Where's your friend Marga?" Combeferre asked her, hanging up his coat and loosening his cravat. Enjolras deposited his books on the kitchen/dining table.

"She went off to buy a few things at the market," came her flippant reply, giving the two a pause.

"It's nearly dark, she has no companion, and you sent her out into the streets where there are gangs at night?" Enjolras asked, seemingly calm. Casey nodded in affirmation.

"What were you thinking!" Combeferre exclaimed angrily, voicing the thoughts on both their minds. Casey shrugged.

"She has two swords, a bow and quiver, and who knows how many knives strapped onto her body. She'll be fine," was her response.

"How long ago did she leave?" Combeferre asked, grabbing his coat and hat. Enjolras did the same, making his way to the door.

"Around an hour ago," Casey said, turning back to reading. "She's fine, believe me. Marga knows how to take care of herself."

The two young men looked at each other. "No one takes that long to go to the market for 'a few things'," Combeferre whispered to his friend. Enjolras nodded. They were about to go out to search for her, when the door flew open, causing poor Enjolras to fall backwards onto the floor.

"Sorry I'm late," said a small, cloaked figure as it came barreling through the door. "I had a run in with the Patton-Minette, but they let me alone when I punched Montparnasse in the face and threatened mayhem. Oh hello Combeferre, Enjolras. Baguette?" it rattled on cheerfully, removing it's strange, mottled-green cloak to reveal the girl they had almost set out to look for. Marga offered them a loaf of bread from the bag she was carrying under her arm. She spotted Enjolras on the floor and hurried to help him up, saying.

"Oh dear, did I do that?" she asked him, worried. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no I'm fine," he said shrugging her of him. "The question is, are you?"

She smiled at the two's worry. "I am fine. You need not worry about me," she said, enunciating each word to ease their nerves.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Combeferre grabbed her and insisted he look her over for any wounds, despite her protests.

"What happened anyway," he asked her, looking at her arm and treating a scratch he spied.

She chuckled at the memory. "I was walking back here when I was pulled into an alleyway. I looked back to see who my attacker was and was met with the ugly sight of the whole of Thenardier's gang. They probably thought I was some weak bourgouise or grisette girl running errands for my mother. I don't blame them, what with the clothes I'm wearing. They tried to rob me, so of course I struggled. One of them, I think it was Burjon, slapped me in the face." She pointed to a hand shaped bruise on her left cheek. "I stopped resisting for a while to make them lower their guard. I had nothing they could take anyway. When they found out that I had nothing of value, Thenardier left me for the others to use as they would. That's when I punched Montparnasse. I pulled out a knife and threatened to bash all of their skulls in if they didn't leave me alone. Thenardier and the rest ran off with the words, 'You'll pay for this,' and I made my way back into the flat. It's no big deal," she said, grinning as the two young men looked at her in amazement.

"You did what?" Enjolras asked, for once completely speechless.

"After facing down an angry Kalkara, it's next to nothing," she answered, shrugging. After treating her face bruise, Combeferre declared her fine and fairly undamaged.

"So are we going for a meeting tonight?" Marga asked them. Enjolras nodded.

"When will we leave?" Casey inquired.

"As soon as you're ready," it was Combeferre that answered this time. "That should be around...half an hour. Assuming you are of course."

Casey said, "you damn right we are," while stuffing her iPad into her bag. Marga grinned and exclaimed, "I only need five," before running to the bathroom

* * *

**C: Enjonine shippers! There's going to be some Enjonine in the next few chapters:)**


	5. 5 Pairings and Relationships

**Disclaimer: we don't own Les Mis **

* * *

Chapter 5: Pairings and Relationships

It actually took all four of them twenty minutes to leave. As they were walking towards the Café, both boys were keeping a sharp lookout for any policemen and/or Patton-Minette members. When they finally arrived at the Musain, they all took their usual places, though everyone else had yet to arrive. Enjolras, sat down at his corner table with Marga across from him, giving out suggestions and comments. Combeferre situated himself near his friend and Casey sat with him. They got into an energetic discussion about books, oblivious to their surroundings.

The next to arrive was Marius, to Enjolras's surprise, and Éponine, following her love as ever. Marius merely sat himself down to daydream, while Éponine made her way to where Enjolras and Marga were seated. Marga greeted the gamine with a wide grin and the revolutionary acknowledged her with a nod. Éponine smiled slightly in return, quickly joining the conversation.

The next to come was Courfeyac, accompanied by Gantaire and Jehan. The poet was quietly writing on a sheet of paper while the two formers were laughing boisterously, the drunk already slightly tipsy.

After them came Joly and Bossuet, with Joly supporting his companion. The unlucky man had tripped and fallen down three stairs as he was leaving his flat. When he had arrived to pick him up, Joly had found him sprawled out on the floor with a bruise on his head. Depositing him onto a chair, Joly hurried over to Marga, as he had spotted the bruise on her cheek. Despite her assurances that she was perfectly fine, he once again dragged her away to give her a full medical checkup. It didn't help in the slightest that Marga started sneezing because of the dust. The others looked on in amusement.

When Marga had finally pried herself from Joly's grasp, so was it that Bahorel and Feuilly arrived. Gavroche accompanied the two but made his way over to Courfeyac, who picked him up and placed him on his lap.

The entire Les Amis de l'ABC were gathered within the hour.

When everyone had finally arrived, their leader stood up from his table. Éponine, Marga and Casey, who had joined their debate after talking to Combeferre, all stood and split up, Éponine made her way to her usual corner, while Casey and Marga stood just in front of the table they occupied the previous evening.

Enjolras gave a rousing speech about equality, liberty, rights and a free country. His words lifted the soul and lighted a flame within each person's heart. He gave hope. His vision inspired each to rise with him to create a new world, one of happiness and peace. His passion could break even the most avid disbeliever. He blazed like the sun, shedding its warmth upon all. His eyes were like a summer day, bright and beautiful. His hair was a mane of gold, surrounding him with a pure, untainted light. No one could resist him. He was a beacon for the lost. He was the food of the poor. He was the savior of the wretched. This godly man. This marble Apollo.

"Vive la France!" he yelled, breaking the spell he had all of them under.

"Vive la France!" they all cried. They all broke into loud cheers.

He made his way down from the table he stood upon into the crowd below him. His comrades clapped his back and congratulated him. He basked in the glory for a time before sitting back at his table, leaving his friends to celebrate as they would.

After talking between themselves for a while after Enjolras's speech, the two girls joined Courfeyac, Gantaire, Jehan, and Bahorel at their table. The young men welcomed them happily, Grantaire and Bahorel pulling up chairs as they were the closest to them. Marga read Jehan's poems over his shoulder while Casey talked to the three other revolutionaries.

"That's...amazing," Courfeyac muttered as he watched Casey show them the different functions of her iPad and her cellphone.

"Actually, these are older models," she said as she explained to them how to text on her cellphone. "The more recent versions have more features to them." She grinned as she saw Bahorel and Grantaire play with her iPad, shoving each other out of the way for a chance at it. "Marga!" she called out to her friend, who Jehan was consulting for his poems.

"Yes?" Marga queried.

"Can I borrow your iPad?" Casey asked.

"Sure." She motioned to her bag. "It's in there."

Casey handed Bahorel Marga's iPad, which was the very first model released, and though it didn't have the camera feature, he seemed content with it.

Grantaire had stumbled across the photos app. He looked closely at the pictures, trying to remember why they seemed so familiar. He turned to look at Enjolras closer. It had something to do with his best friend... It suddenly struck him when he saw Éponine approach the table, bending to talk to the young rebel.

"Oh, I remember these," he exclaimed loudly, holding the device up for all to see, gaining stares from the rest of the Amis, including Enjolras and Éponine. "Enjonine right?" he asked Casey.

"Yes," she declared proudly, turning away from Courfeyac, who she was teaching the basics of communication technology to.

At this statement, Marga jumped out of her seat, yelling.

"Oh no you don't! I completely forbid you from telling them anything about that idiotic pairing!"

Casey motioned for the boys to wait and approached Marga cautiously. Though she knew Marga wouldn't dare hurt her or any of the students, she could still do horrible damage to the surrounding furniture.

"Fine, I won't tell them," she said placatingly, walking forward slowly, so as not to provoke her friend.

"You're not?" Marga asked her quizzically. For once, Casey blessed her friend's ridiculously trusting nature. "But I could've sworn-" She was cut of suddenly by Casey hoisting her up onto her shoulder. She managed a startled yelp before her friend threw her into a broom closet on the other side of the room and shut the door. She got up and tried to open the door, but found out it was locked. She kicked it in frustration and sat herself down against the wall. 'At least there are candles,' she thought to herself, lighting one. Sit there for hours. Ok. But sit there for hours without a light? Not a chance.

"Hmm, we should probably get someone to keep her company," Casey mused. Before anyone could react, she had Jehan by the collar and had thrown him inside, locking the door yet again.

"Why him?!" Courfeyac complained petulantly. Casey looked at him witheringly.

"Because by the day's end you'd probably have Marga on her back on the floor," she answered. "And he's the only one here I trust not to do anything and still make sure she keeps calm. I could take Combeferre of course, but I need him to restrain Enjolras." Courfeyac backed off, muttering protests under his breath. "Anyway, don't you want to hear about Enjonine?" There was a general chorus of "Aye!'s" from the crowd as they gathered around her. Only Enjolras and Éponine themselves seemed averse to the whole idea.

"No we don't!" they hear Marga cry out, her voice muffled by the door.

"Oh come now Marga," Casey said cheerfully. "I know you like it. What other reason have you to justify why those were all you read when you could still read fan fiction?"

There was a silence from the closet before Marga yelled. "Because it's the only half-decent ship around that doesn't involve Marius ogling sickeningly over Cosette!"

"Ship?" Feuilly asked. He knew what the word meant, but not used in that context.

"Ogling over Cosette?! I don't ogle!" Marius retorted heatedly.

"Yes you do, now let the girl explain!" Enjolras snapped, still very aggravated. "And what do you mean 'half-decent'? Surely you can't mean there are worse?" he asked.

"Oh there are worse, believe me," Casey said, her face darkening slightly. "But first you must let me explain to you the concept of 'ships' in that sense."

Marga sighed in annoyance as her companion elaborated on ships and pairings. She leaned against the door, knowing there was nothing she could do, and looked at the poet seated across from her.

He was fiddling with his hair, deep in thought. He had not written anything in quite a few minutes and seemed quite frustrated at the fact.

"Writer's block?" she asked. Being a writer herself, she could easily relate to his predicament.

He nodded, almost shamefully. Marga smiled, saying.

"Need help?" He nodded again. She picked herself up from the floor and sat beside him. He shifted his position so they could get more comfortable. They grinned at each other and fell deep into the realm of words.

"The only pairing Marga considers decent enough is the Marius/Cosette slash," Casey continued. "She doesn't support any ship, per se, but that's the only one she doesn't argue about. That and one-sided É/M." At this last mention, she was met with confused faces.

"One sided É/M?" Bousset asked. "The M is most probably Marius, but what's the É?"

Casey looked meaningfully at Éponine. They all followed her gaze and stared at her in understanding. Éponine shrunk back slightly at their patronizing looks of pity. Enjolras, who was behind her, rubbed her back comfortingly. Marius just looked as clueless as ever.

"Anyway," she said, drawing out the word. "Anymore questions before I show you a fan fiction story?"

"Yes," Combeferre interjected. "Marga said that the Enjolras and Éponine pairing was the only half-decent one that didn't involve Marius or Cosette. Pray tell, what are the...indecent ones she refuses to talk about?" The other boys echoed his statement.

Her face darkened for a moment before she sighed.

"Let's start with the...better ones," she said before adding under her breath. "If you can call it that." The Amis shuddered slightly at this. "Gavroche, could you step out? I'm afraid it wouldn't...do you for you to hear this," she said, pushing the boy out the door before closing it.

"Now..." was the start of the long list she was to relate to them. With each passing statement, the Amis grew more and more aghast. Courfeyac even let out a squawk when it was mentioned that he was paired up with Jehan on several instances. Grantaire broke his bottle at the E/R ship while Enjolras looked practically murderous. Joly fainted after the fourth ship involving him while Bahorel cracked his knuckles, ready to hit. Combeferre paled considerably, and Feuilly snapped one of his precious fans in half. Bossuet looked like he was going to let his bad luck take him alive and Éponine sat down, looking blankly at the wall next to Marius, who worked on a long letter to Cosette about his never-ending love for her. In short, they looked horrible.

"And there are a few more that I refuse to mention," Casey finished sadly, seeing the effect it had on the group of rambunctious boys that were previously so rowdy and joyful. They looked at her with eyes that ranged from depressed to hostile.

"You said you were going to show us some Enjonine! Not this snooze fest!" Grantaire slurred out in an an attempt to lighten the mood. Some smiled at the drunk as he continued his hilarious antics. After a while, the whole group was laughing. Even Enjolras cracked a smile. Casey grinned. She knew they would take it badly, but to see them so happy again made her glad. It did not suit them to be so...down, even if it for only a short period of time.

She grabbed her iPad and picked one of her favorites, 'My Week with Éponine'. She gave the device to Combeferre, who she knew would not drop it. She showed them what to do to change the page as soon as they were done reading a chapter and decided to check on her friend.

"You ok in there?" she asked through the door, knocking on it to get her friend's attention. There was an audible scurrying sound from behind it.

"As fine as I'll ever be," came Marga's voice, still very annoyed. "What are you doing anyway? Aren't you supposed to be telling the Amis about Enjonine?" she said bitterly. Casey grinned.

"Oh I already told them. They're currently reading a fan fiction."

"What!" Marga screeched, causing the students to look at Casey and the door questioningly. Casey waved them back to their reading, to which they willingly obliged. "Wait, which one?" she asked, slightly calmer.

"Master of the House," Casey said smirking. She heard a muffled curse and then...silence. She relaxed. Perhaps Marga wouldn't do anything rash and just sit there until she would deem it right to release her. How wrong she was. Casey had completely forgotten that Marga had brought her swords with her.

A foot to her right, smack in the middle of the door, there was a loud cracking sound. Casey looked to her right and let out a strangled shout of surprise, which caused the Barricade boys to look at her in question. They followed her gaze and Joly fainted once again. The cause of their shock, our good readers, was a long, very sharp blade sticking out of the wood.

"Feeling better in there Marga?" she yelled out, unreasonably calm, considering the piece of metal that had appeared a foot next to her. The sword retracted and she heard a muffled yes coming from inside, along with loud panting. She stared at the gaping students. "I'm fine! Marga wouldn't hurt me, she just needed to let out some frustration. Go on back to your reading." She made a shooing motion with her hands. Waking Joly up, they grudgingly complied, slightly worried for their friend's safety.

"You didn't really make them read Master of the House, did you?" Casey heard Marga's soft question.

"Don't worry, it's not, but you should really get that temper under control," Casey admonished.

She heard a sigh. "I know," was her friend's response. Casey grinned, though Marga couldn't see her.

"Now go back to whatever you were doing," she commanded. Casey heard a faint swishing of feet and a thump, meaning her friend took her advise and calmed down.

When Marga had rushed forward, holding the sword in front of her, cutting through the wood like butter, Jehan could have sworn a demon had taken over the gentle being he had been making a poem with. When he saw the look of remorse on her face when she drew back though, he knew it was the same girl.

He heard snippets of the conversation she had with her friend through the door. He vaguely made out the word 'temper' among others. When she turned to resume her earlier place next to him though, Jehan shied away slightly in fear. He immediately regretted it as he saw a flicker of pain cross her face. He relaxed and allowed her to sit beside him.

He looked at her once and backed away. There was an anger in her eyes that made him fear for his life. One could only imagine his surprise when she started sobbing into her dress, her head between her knees.

"Um...it's fine," he said, awkwardly trying to comfort her. In his confusion, his flowing, poetic speech deserted him.

"No it isn't!" she murmured into her skirt. "I've always had a bad temper, and I could never control it. I'm sorry if I scared you, but it just flares up in the most inopportune moments. It almost caused me my friends once, a...and now..." she couldn't continue, crying hysterically into her skirts at what could've happened to the friend on the other side of the door.

Though she had acted so mature and frightening the previous day, at this time, when she was so vulnerable, Jehan could clearly see her youth. Mentality of an adult she may have, but emotionally, she was still a child.

He hugged her, whispering soothing words into her ears. Eventually, she calmed down and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Thank you Monsieur," she said ruefully. "I'm afraid my emotional instability has made you uncomfortable. If it pleases you, I shall not bother you much longer." She got up to move to the other side of the room, but Jehan caught her arm, laughing slightly.

"No, no. It was no problem Marga. If you will, could you help me with this poem I'm writing?" he asked, blushing slightly. Stunned that he still wanted to be around her after seeing what a short reign on her temper she had, she sat down beside him.

"Who is it about?" she asked, scanning the paper.

"Your friend, Mademoiselle Casey," he admitted, embarrassed.

She let out a small squeal. "She will love it!" she said enthusiastically.

After they finished what had been written of the fan fiction, Casey decided to check on Marga, if only to determine whether she could show the Amis more. She opened the door, fully expecting a battle-ready Marga to burst out, swinging her sword like a madman...or woman. What she saw though, was the complete opposite.

Marga was curled up into a ball, sleeping peacefully, her head on Jehan's lap. The young poet was also in repose, sitting up with his hand on the girl's hair, like he was stroking it before he fell asleep. Casey smiled at the scene. She opened the door to let the others see its occupants. 'This is why I chose him,' she mouthed at them before locking them in again. Courfeyac rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath, yet again.

"Who's up for another fan fiction!?" she yelled. There was a resounding 'I' from the room. Even Gavroche answered, for he had been permitted to read along with the rest of them. Only Enjolras and Éponine were less than excited for another story, but they took the brunt of it all, so it was hardly surprising. After the last tale of their love, Enjolras had turned a bright red to match his jacket and Éponine, a sickly green.

Casey grinned evilly. 'I know just the Modern AU to make them squirm,' she thought to herself. Grabbing the iPad from Combeferre, she quickly set it to Aftershocks. It was another one of her favorites, so she had no trouble finding it.

Handing it to them, she said. "This is a modern AU fan fiction, so you'd probably not understand half the things being written, but the story is still there."

The group quickly got engrossed in the tale. It was light reading for them, even those who did not read much. As they got deeper and deeper in the plot, so it was that both Enjolras and Éponine paled. Joly even went so far as to check their temperature, for they were so pallid, one would think they had a chronic illness.

Casey smirked at their discomfort. Had Marga been there, she would have already ripped the iPad from their grasp and thrown it on the floor, but luckily, she was asleep in a locked broom closet. She was going to enjoy this while it lasted. She heard Enjolras groan as his friends teased him about the sweet and mushy chapters he had with Éponine in the story. Éponine herself seemed to be yelling at the Les Amis.

An hour, and another fan fiction later, only Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyac, and a passed-out Grantaire were left.

Casey was deep in conversation with Courfeyac and Combeferre about music. Music was her soul, so she readily argued with them. Enjolras was at his usual corner planning and watching Grantaire, lest he died in his sleep.

"Well of course music is different in our century," Casey said. "It's louder, for one thing. And it's faster and, well, lighter I suppose."

"Surely it can't be any more trying on the ears than an opera singer," Courfeyac said.

"Opera sopranos aren't all that bad," Combeferre gently protested, fond as he was of operas.

"Well, I wouldn't know about that," Casey muttered, for she had not once been to an opera. A musical, yes, but not a full-blown classical composition. Marga would have, had she the chance, but not she. "Here," she said, fishing out her iPod and portable speaker. She quickly set up the devices. "This is what modern music sounds like." Loud rock music blared from the tiny piece of technology. It wasn't her favorite song, or genre, but Casey seemed to have the urge to annoy them that night.

"This is much worse," Courfeyac yelled, covering his ears.

"Operatic sopranos don't seem so bad now, do they?" Combeferre joked, though he was doing much the same his friend was.

"Turn it off will you?! That sorry excuse for music is loud enough to wake the dead!" an angry Enjolras shouted over the noise. The young revolutionary tried to return to his work, but in vain. The racket even managed to rouse Grantaire from his drunken stupor.

"Wha..." he murmured, confused and still very much intoxicated by the alcohol he had downed.

Unfortunately, because of how incredibly jarring the music was, not one of the members of that small group heard the scream that would have otherwise cut through the night. Upon urge of her friends, Casey quickly shut off the machine. The others relaxed, their ears recovering, but they tensed again as another shrill cry of pain pierced the silence.

"What was that?" Courfeyac mumbled. Casey shrugged, straining her ears to listen for the source.

Seeing as none of them seemed to know what to do, Enjolras quickly took on the role of leader.

"You, Combeferre, Courfeyac, come with me, we shall go outside and look for whoever made or caused the scream. Casey, watch Gantaire, keep him safe from himself, and prepare the tables. If someone is hurt, we will need something to lay him or her upon and tables are the only resource at the moment," he commanded. Combeferre ran of to grab his medical bag and Courfeyac ran to the closet to find something to use as a weapon. He jiggled the knob, puzzled as to why it was locked.

"Do any of you have the key to the broom closet," he called out. Casey looked up from where she was patting Grantaire awake and tossed him the key. He caught it with some surprise. His shock intensified when he opened the door to find a groggy Marga staring at him and Jehan yawning, papers scattered about the floor.

"What happened?" Marga asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Courfeyac looked at her grimly, rummaging for an object stout enough to serve as a club.

"Someone was attacked," he answered, kicking the wall angrily as he didn't find anything of use. Marga stood up, alert as day.

"Where?" was her stern response. Courfeyac looked at her, curious. The girl had a decidedly commanding air, much like their own marble statue. He watched her pick up her bow, quiver, two short sword scabbards and a longsword sheath.

"We don't know. We're going out to check," he told her. By then, Jehan was already wide awake and exiting the small storage room.

Strapping on her various weapons, she threw him the longsword with ease. The young man caught it, staggering slightly by its weight. "That'll do the job better than a broom," she said, striding out into the main room. She walked straight up to the young rebels about to leave the Café's back room.

"Where do you think you're going," Courfeyac demanded, running out, clutching the huge sword.

"Out. With them to look for the attacker," she said, looking deadly serious. "You should probably bring Casey along too. I think Jehan can handle R and the tables you're going to use later on." The boys looked at her in amazement.

"You can't possibly be saying that you are coming with us?" Combeferre asked incredulously.

"You are ladies, and it is not safe. Stay. You can help in other ways," Enjolras told her.

Enraged at his words, Marga's eyes blazed. Though considerably smaller than the rebel leader, her presence was large enough to match, or even overpower, his. Casey gulped. She had seen Marga in this state before. 'This is not going to be pretty' she thought. 'Ladies we may be, but we are not weak little girls.'

In a low, threatening voice laced with venom, Marga spat out.

"You are telling the girl who faced down the Patton-Minette and attacked Monparnasse to sit here docilely while you lot risk your necks out there. I don't think so. What happened to females being equal to men? If you still think we are weaker than you, then you're nothing more than an eloquent hypocrite!"

The boys gazed at her in shock. Nobody had ever talked to their leader like that. Enjolras though, seemed unfazed.

"Fine. You can come. Just don't complain if you get hurt," he warned, gesturing for them to come with him. The two girls brightened and Casey grabbed her broadsword. They made their outside into the night.

It was dark, to say the least. It was the period of the new moon, so the only lights were the stars. They paused at the Café door in order to let their eyes adjust. As soon as they could see properly, more or less, Enjolras immediately took the helm.

"Combeferre and Marga, check the alleyways to the left of the Café. Courfeyac and Casey, take those on the right. I'll check straight ahead. Be careful, all of you. Stay on your guard, there's no telling where that scream came from. The attackers could still be there." The others nodded in agreement, all past arguments forgotten in the gravity of the situation. They quickly split apart to inspect their assigned areas.

Casey crept along, straining each of her senses. Marga may be the tracker between the two of them, but she had the sharper senses, at least for hearing, both of them had horrid eyesight. Marga was skilled at multitasking, but when she tried, Casey had the ability to hear the slightest noise, from the patter of feet to the squeak of a mouse. It certainly helped that in Arulen, she was the one supervising Marga's unseen and unheard movement practice.

She scanned the streets for any sign of danger while Combeferre checked the first narrow alleyway they came across.

'The streets do look like silver in the rain,' she thought to herself, staring at the dark beauty surrounding them. Lights glittered on the stagnant water. Unearthly shimmers fluttered at the edge of her sight, only to vanish when looked at. Crystalline ripples traversed the surface as a soft wind blew. Entranced by the sight, Casey almost missed Combeferre's call.

"Come along! Well get no farther staring," he said. Snapped out of its spell, Casey followed quickly.

She focused full on the task at hand, abandoning the urge to lose herself in the world of dark light that had had her in its grasp. Her senses were turned to its limit by the nerves running through her blood. She gripped her weapon in tense anticipation, her guard up and ready.

Three alleyways down and five minutes into the search, Casey heard a soft, muffled cry of pain from somewhere ahead of them. Her companion hadn't seemed to have heard it, as he was still scanning the streets for any sign of the attacker or the attacked. She rushed forward, taking matters into her own hands.

A few meters ahead, she stumbled across a narrow path. So inconspicuous was it, that she would have just past it otherwise. She quickly slipped in, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Combeferre followed her, almost as cautious.

She heard another muffled thump and a squeak of pain. Incensed, she thundered forward, to hell with being quiet. She drew her sword and charged at the tall, thin shadowy figure that was the attacker, bellowing an ancient war cry. Startled and clearly frightened, the attacker abandoned his victim, who was lying in a heap.

Though she wanted to follow the bastard, Casey merely sent a glare his way, and turned to small, silent heap. She quickly turned it around to get a better look and gasped

* * *

**A/N: **

**C: exciting cliffhanger eh?**

**M: what did you guys think?**

**C: don't forget to R&R**

**M: we really appreciate your comments**


	6. 6 Fury,Rage,Anger,Panic

**A/N: **

**M: Here's chapter 6!, what do you guys think?**

**C: hope you like it=))**

* * *

Chapter 6: Fury, Rage, Anger, Panic

When she heard the Arulen war cry being yelled into the sky loud enough to wake the dead, Marga immediately turned around and raced the opposite direction, dragging Courfeyac with her. She knew it could only be Casey shouting, and she was furious.

As for Enjolras, he too heard the cry, and headed just as quickly, albeit with slight pause, to the streets Casey and Combeferre had left to inspect.

Due to Marga's speed and Enjolras's hesitation, they arrived at the entrance of the alleyway at the same time. They saw Casey standing, staring at the deep shadows of the small pathway, and Combeferre tending to whoever it was that was attacked.

Marga immediately headed to Casey and started talking animatedly to her. Courfeyac and Enjolras, on the other hand, approached Combeferre, who answered their questioning looks with a grimace and moved aside to let them see who they had set out to save.

Courfeyac gasped and Enjolras paled. They both rushed forward and grasped each of the small gamin's hands.

For, my friends, the victim of this brutal encounter was their friend, Éponine.

She was lying, broken, in a small pool of her own blood. Her arms, face, and what was shown of her legs, were all covered with bruises and wounds. There were so many cuts that it was impossible to tell where the bleeding came from. Her eyes were shut tight and her limbs were sprawled haphazardly. Her left leg was twisted at an impossible angle and her side had a wide, but shallow gash.

Combeferre gently nudged and urged them away so he could try to fix what he could at that moment. He only brought bare essentials with him in the heat of the moment and all of his medical instruments were back at his flat. All he managed to do was staunch the bleeding.

"We'll have to bring her back to our flat. Everything I need is there and it's the closest from here," he told Enjolras, who still looked as if in shock. It came as no surprise, as he was the closest of them to Éponine. He nodded dumbly, unable to think straight.

He watched as Marga and Casey stalked up to him. He tried to inquire as to what they were talking about, but Marga stopped him, holding up her hand.

"I'm going after him," she said in a tone that offered no argument, not that that stopped Enjolras from protesting.

"No! Are you crazy? You saw what he did to Éponine, he'd do the same to you if he finds out you were following him. And how will you even find him? He's probably long gone by now and the streets of Paris are a maze! How do you expect to even catch sight of him," he snapped, her statement delivering a slap back to reality.

"First of all," Marga said, holding up a finger. "I know how to fight. I proved that when I bashed Montparnasty's, who by the way I think was behind all this, face in. Second, I was trained by the best trackers of medieval times, following him would be too easy. And third, he will NEVER notice I'm there," she finished, removing her cloak and weapons. "But first, I need to get this dress off. Help me with the zipper, will you Casey," she said, slipping out of it, revealing her to be wearing a dark green, long sleeved tunic and dark grey breeches. She returned her weapons and put on her cloak, tossing her previous outfit to Casey, who packed it in a bag they didn't notice she had. "I'll be back within the hour," she told them, before melting into the night.

Getting over their shock at seeing the girl literally disappear from right under their noses, the boys quickly went back to work. Enjolras, taking command, ordered Courfeyac to go to the Café to tell him what happened and that they would not need his assistance any longer. He also informed Courfeyac to go back home afterwards, deaf to his angry retorts that he could a filler help, but all the same telling him to fetch Joly. After Courf grudgingly left them, he sent Combeferre and Casey ahead to prepare the flat. They nodded and rushed off to do their part. He, on the other hand picked up Éponine, flinching at her lack of substantial weight. He hurried towards his flat, his friend safe in his arms.

* * *

**A/N:**

**M: what do you think?**

**C: sorry it's kinda a filler...**

**M: we promise to make next chapter longer!**


	7. re and Love

**A/N:**

**we are extremely sorry for not being able to update. We've been really busy with schoolwork **

**so... Hope this chap makes up for it:)**

* * *

Chapter 7: Care and Love

"Please be fine. Please be fine," Enjolras begged the girl as he hurried towards the flat, not that she could hear him.

It may had been the closest to where they were, but it was by no means right around the corner. Although he was sprinting at top speed, it still took him near ten minutes to burst through the door, especially as Éponine was weighing him down slightly.

He laid her down gently on the sofa, which had been cleared of the pillows and blankets that had been strewn across it. Apparently, the two girls had cleaned up everything and everywhere, except the place where they slept the night before.

The rebel leader moved to the side as his second-in-charge took the helm. He may have been able to rouse up schoolboys with his words, but this was Combeferre's area of expertise. Also, he certainly didn't like how pallid Éponine's tanned skin had gotten. Her normally rosy cheeks wee a gray ivory, and her face was deathly pale.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Combeferre muttered, as if to himself, but his comment was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Casey looked unsure of what to do and shifted on her feet nervously. Enjolras looked just as insecure, if slightly more nervous, seeing as he had known Éponine longer than her.

Surprisingly, it was Casey who spoke up first.

"Will she be fine?" she asked, wringing her hands in anticipation.

Combeferre, who had been inspecting her visible wounds briefly before getting to work, answered rather hesitantly.

"If we stop the bleeding and prevent infection, there is a good chance she will pull through." It did not slip past the two bystanders that he didn't say for sure that her wounds would heal completely, or that she would live. They watched anxiously as the medical student took several instruments from his bag and started doing who-knows-what with them. Casey recognized a few of them, for they were often used in her times, but Enjolras, for once, looked positively clueless. Had they not been in the situation they had found themselves, Casey would have chuckled at his face.

Combeferre was just finishing his brisk examination, when there came a furious pounding on the door. In order not to disrupt his friend, it was Enjolras who took it, not at all surprised to see a disgruntled Joly and a very out of breath Courfeyac, who had his friend by the arm.

Enjolras nodded to them and moved aside, allowing them entrance. Joly's eyes widened upon seeing the broken young lady on the couch. Obviously, Courfeyac had not told him anything upon dragging him to Enjolras's flat. The hypochondriac rushed to the kitchen to wash his hands and made his way to where his fellow medic was working, getting a full medical report on the girl's state of body and stability.

Seeing as there were two perfectly able bodied men in the room and one very impatient woman, the two medical students put them to good use.

"Staunch the bleeding! Staunch the bleeding! Don't bleed her to death you idiot, use a cloth! Courfeyac, get a cloth. I don't care where you get it, just go. Enjolras, boil some water and Casey, I need you to light more candles," Joly yelled at them as they scurried around upon his orders. Rushing, Courfeyac soon came back with one of Enjolras's shirts, as it was the easiest to find on short notice, which was quickly torn up into strips for Éponine's wounds. These were soaked in the boiling water and tied tightly around her torso, over the stab wound.

They worked tirelessly for a quarter of an hour, cleaning the girl's cuts and treating her various bruises the best they could before collapsing in exhaustion. Casey supported Combaferre and led him to the dining table to sit down. Joly stayed with their patient, watching her in case she revived or started having spasms.

"She was beaten," Combeferre started when all four of them were seated. "And it has been going on for some time. Not all of those bruises were new and there were a few shallow scars around her upper arm and back. Most of her cuts were superficial and nothing much to worry about. The real problem was the stab wound. It was rather deep and was bleeding profusely, but don't fret to much. She is stable and will make a full recovery in no time, as long as she stays in bed and doesn't move," he said, trying to assure them. It seemed to work for Courfeyac, but the other two were more skeptical.

"So...what do we do now?" Casey asked, itching to be able to help them, but unable to. Even though both her and Marga constantly get hurt due to their reckless nature, Marga was the only healer between the two. Her own medical skills were sadly nil.

"We wait," was his simple answer.

"Until what?" Enjolras asked, getting a strong urge to run out and beat whoever hurt his friend in every way possible.

"Until either she wakes up or Marga comes back. We can't do anything until we have a lead, and only those two can give us a clue," Casey said, surprising the others with her sense and firm grasp of their situation.

Typically, that was the exact moment when the flat door flew open, revealing a shadowy cloaked figure with an unmistakeable air of menace around it. All of the young men inside jumped in shock, but Casey seemed relatively unflustered.

"You're back," she said. The cloaked figure seemed to glare at her, but its eyes were covered in darkness, so it was hard to be sure.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," it mocked, revealing the mysterious person to be Marga. "I would have been back earlier, but that sneaky bastard nearly gave me the slip. Five times!" she spat, annoyed at herself or at the 'sneaky bastard' none of them knew.

"So...did you find him?" Casey asked, unaffected by her tone.

"Of course I did," Marga said, throwing back her hood and removing her cloak. "I wouldn't have come back if I didn't. The real question is, how is she?" the girl inquired, referring to Éponine.

"She's fine," Joly said, walking towards them. "And awake," he added. "Apparently, she heard a loud crashing noise and was startled out of her sleep." He glared accusingly at Marga, who hung her head in shame.

"Sorry," she murmured meekly, despite her rage over her seeming incompetence. The medical student just sighed and made his forgiveness apparent with a wave of his hand.

"But that's beside the point. She wants to talk to you. All of you," he told them. They all stood up and made their way to their friend.

Casey, Marga, and Joly all took up the space at the foot of the sofa, while Courfeyac and Combeferre sat on the table near it. Enjolras stood, back against the wall, by Éponine's head, as if afraid something would happen to her. This, unfortunately for him, did not go unnoticed by Casey. She smiled knowingly, formulating a plan in her mind.

Éponine, though weak, managed to give them all a wan smile. She tried to sit up, but was gently pushed down by a frowning Joly. Just as well, for that small movement had brought a sharp pain to her back, abdomen and arms. She lay back down, resigned to her fate as a temporary invalid.

That didn't stop her from talking though. She started by thanking them.

"Thank you so much, I don't know what would have happened had you not been there. I'm sorry for being such a burden and I will be gone by tomorrow, should you wish it," she said gratefully, but was answered by shaking heads.

"You can, and will, stay here as long as you want, and or, need to," Combeferre said graciously. "Anyway, it would be more convenient for us medical students to treat you, as you are so nearby."

"But I don't want to impose-" she started, but was cut off by Marga.

"Don't worry. Although I can't speak for the owner of this flat, I can assure you it will hold you just fine. If you wish it, Casey and I can stay at the elephant so as not to further inconvenience you three."

Enjolras, however, seemed to disagree.

"There is enough space here for all of you. None of you are going out on the streets. It is of no inconvenience at all." Combeferre nodded, agreeing with this statement.

"Thanks," Casey said, grinning. The two young men smiled in return.

"Yes, thank you," Éponine said weakly. Enjolras took her small hand in his, a rare portrayal of his long-subdued gentleness.

"It really is no problem."

Late that night, when Courfeyac and Joly had finally left, all the flat's inhabitants fell into a deep sleep. Casey still resided in the extra room, as she had before. Enjolras fell asleep on his desk, using a textbook for a pillow, definitely not the most comfortable situation. Both Combeferre and Marga slept at the foot of the couch, after the girl had avidly opposed sleeping in the young man's bed, despite the fact that he wouldn't be using it that night. Éponine, her condition still rather fragile, spent the night on the softest cushions she had ever lain upon since her parents lost the inn to debt, not caring in the slightest it wasn't a bed.

Unfortunately, the young gamin had anything but a peaceful slumber.

As the moon reached its zenith, signaling the arrival of midnight, the entire household was awoken by a loud scream.

Casey grabbed her ever-present broadsword, her years of training honing her nerves and instincts to a point, even when half asleep. She ran out of the room, expecting to see robbers or the Patton-Minette, only to see Enjolras darting out of his, his hair and shirt askew. She saw Combeferre, awake and alert, rushing around, his hastily donned glasses crooked on his nose. Marga was right next to Éponine, holding her down and whispering soothing words in her ear. The girl herself was thrashing around, yelling something that sounded suspiciously like "Père".

"Non, non. It's fine. Your Père is not here," Marga crooned, looking beseechingly at her friend and the rebel leader. Casey rushed forward to help Marga calm the screaming girl. Enjolras ran off to find a spare piece of cloth, upon the urging of Combeferre.

"She has a fever," Combeferre told them, rushing forward with a bowl of cold water mixed with vinegar, a common way of lowering fevers in those days. He accepted the cloth from a stoic, but fairly fidgety Enjolras. "We have to lower her temperature before any infection takes hold," he added, placing the soaked and folded cloth on the young girl's head.

"You think I don't see that!" Casey snapped, her worry and sleepiness making her ill-tempered. It certainly didn't help that Marga, much to Casey's chagrin, had left her alone to calm Èponine as she rifled through her bags for some unknown substance. "We took up human anatomy and sickness in school for the past, who knows how many years. I'd expect myself to know these things!"

"Yes, yes. We all know how you hate our fifth grade anatomy lessons I do too," Marga said as she hurriedly walked back to them, holding a case of pills in one hand. Casey, seeing the label, immediately dispelled any annoyance she might have felt and grabbed the bottle, inspecting it.

Smirking, Casey said, twisting the common saying.

"Once a hypochondriac, always a hypochondriac."

Marga rolled her eyes and quickly extracted one of the numerous small pills.

"You cannot be what you never were," she retorted, kneeling down near Éponine's head, next to Combeferre, who was looking at her curiously.

"What's that?" he asked, motioning to the small tablet.

"A way to bring down the fever," she replied, smiling slightly. Leaning forward, she first looked at Combeferre.

"May I?"she asked, gesturing to Éponine.

Combeferre made a welcoming gesture. He couldn't really do much anymore, gladly letting Marga use the queer cure. It was either take the risk, or let Èponine's fever escalate, an almost certain death sentence, and, quite frankly, the situation was starting to get out of hand, what with all his patient's thrashing.

"Get me a glass of water!" she called out to Enjolras, who was merely standing there, looking, and feeling, useless.

He gladly obliged, running to the kitchen to grab the desired item. Marga turned back to the squirming young girl, holding the pill in one hand, and using the other to hold her head down.

"Hold her head down and open her mouth for me, will you?" Marga told Casey, receiving the glass of water from the young revolutionary leader. Her friend obeyed, prying Èponine's clenched jaw apart.

Rolling the pill between her thumb and index finger, Marga dropped the round thing as far back into the gamine's mouth as she dared without causing her any harm. Before her mouth could snap shut, she tipped a quarter of the glass's contents into her mouth before clamping it shut, forcing her to swallow.

They all relaxed, the threat finally over. Casey, in all good humor despite the dire situation her friend was in just moments previously, muttered.

"Well! That was...nerve-wracking!"

Marga, to the surprise of all, started laughing hysterically. She had been in much more panic than she had let on, and she needed to let it out somehow. So, instead of screaming or crying, she laughed.

The others, though puzzled, began to join her, letting out all the frantic feelings they had felt for the past, horrible, half hour.

"As nice as this has all been, I suggest you all get some sleep. I can watch over her for the rest of tonight in case of a relapse, and no Combeferre, I am very sure you have a lecture in the morning. Go to bed." Enjolras ordered the young medical student back to his room, despite his friend's protests. Through all his words and assurances, Enjolras could still see the exhaustion underlying the calm façade. Finally giving in, Combeferre made his way to his quarters, secretly relieved he didn't have to stay up all night. He had an important test soon and was working himself sick over studying for it.

"You too," Enjolras said, addressing the two girls. They were only to happy to oblige, though, when Marga made to sleep on the floor again, Casey grabbed all her blankets and pillows, throwing them into the guest bedroom. This was a prime chance to get Enjolras and Èponine alone together and she was not going to let it go unheeded.

"Seriously?" Marga hissed as she caught on to what Casey was trying to do.

"What?" her friend asked, trying as best she could to look innocent. Needless to say, she was failing miserably.

"I can't believe you!" Marga exclaimed, finally burying herself under the abundance of blankets taken from living room. To Casey's relief, she fell asleep almost immediately.

Smiling, she looked out the door to see how her two lovebirds were doing. Seeing Enjolras gently replacing the cloth on Èponine's head, she smirked, knowing very well that it wasn't to be very long before the young revolutionary would cease rebelling against his own heart. The grin still on her face, she quietly shut the door.

And just as well she did, for, had she stayed and watched, she would have screamed in delight at what had happened next.

As he wrung out and changed the piece of cloth, Enjolras could not help but stare at his young friend's face. She was beautiful, almost ethereal, in the starlight. He mentally slapped himself for being so cliche, annoyed that he would think those things. And yet, he could not stop the feelings stirring in his chest.

Admittedly, yes, he did have feelings for the young gamine. Truly, how could he not? She was headstrong, stubborn, feisty, amazingly tough, and not to mention, smart! It was a recipe for disaster, that much he knew. Had the boys known about his attachment to the young girl, they would never let him live it down. Him! The marble Apollo! In love! Ridiculous!

And yet, so true.

He inwardly cursed himself. How could he have realized it only now? When she had gotten hurt due to his own carelessness.

Oh! But he knew. He knew for a long time. He was only too scared to admit it, because, he had felt it all before.

He closed his eyes as all the images came rushing back. His horrible childhood, his cruel parents, the household help he had befriended long ago...

...and her.

A pain blossomed in him as he recalled those days. That year of pure bliss. Of the courtyard, the study, the library, and the tree that had become both their sanctuaries. Of her.

And, of the terror that followed.

He could see his parents when they found out about his affair. The absolute horror and disgust that crossed their faces. He could see his sister's disapproving glare, and feel his father's belt as it crashed down on his shoulders, bringing him to the ground in pain. And he could see her. The look of longing she had on her face as she was dragged away. A look of true love.

But the last thing he would ever see in those eyes of mirth, was the blank stare of a woman who had lost her soul.

He could see that scene as vividly as it was on that day. He could feel her in his arms, limp, as she lay dying of a sickness acquired from the countless men she was forced to service. Each breath rattling her thin frame. Her heart, fluttering like a trapped bird, trying desperately to keep her alive. Her eyes, once full of life and joy, glazed over as she stared unknowingly into his. Not recognizing the man she had given her heart to. The man that was her ultimate undoing.

He could hear his sobs as he gazed down on her broken body. The curses he uttered against those men who did this to her. The curses he uttered against himself. The tears he never again dared to shed, falling down his marble cheeks. His voice, as he begged her not to go. To live. To love.

His scream of pain, as she took her last breath.

His vow, to forever avenge her death.

His ultimate promise, to never again love.

He chuckled hollowly at the irony of it all. Ah, how cruel fate is. Not only for letting...no...making him love again, but for making it a love that could never be.

For that's what it was. Forbidden.

It was a stab to the heart every time he saw her gazing at Marius with her eyes full of adoration. That bright smile as he talked to her. Her ringing laugh as he cracked a joke that was not even funny. How he wished that was for him. How he hated how blind the oblivious fool was. That the blithering idiot could let that gem that shined only for him slip through his fingers. How he could not see all the love she put before him. For him. Only him.

He sighed. She would never love him, that's for sure. After all, who could love a statue of marble.

But that wouldn't stop him from loving her. From protecting her from all the horrors of the world. For giving everything to her on a silver platter. Not that she'll ever see who bore it.

He let out another resigned sigh. Tucking her in, he kissed her lightly on the brow, allowing himself one tear for all the cruelties she had witnessed and felt during her short life.

"Sleep well, mi amour," he murmured, his lips still pressed to her skin. He pulled back, and, turning away, whispered to the wind.

"My Patria.."


	8. Sad yet important AN

TMTWTTT important A/N

C: guys I hate to say this but... We're taking the story down because according to my co-writer the narration is bad  
M: well it is!  
C: no it's not, now let me finish!  
M: fine...  
C: as I was saying, yeah we will be taking this story down for a bit BUT we shall re-post it soon.  
M: Yes, and we have most of the plot planned out anyways, the story just has to be a bit more realistic and solid.  
C: we're really sorry about this guys... We know you're probably quite annoyed at this point, but we WILL try and post the newer version as soon as possible  
M: don't forget to read it from chapter one when we do because it will be quite a bit different  
C: and hopefully that version won't end up taken down...  
M: oui

C: so I guess we'll hear from you guys soon  
M: oh and, by the way, we're planning on having this as a series so you could look forward to the other editions too  
C: so... Guess we'll see you guys a bit later  
M: au revoir for now *waves*  
C: au revoir *salutes*

M&C: au revoir!


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